


Rescue Me

by ChocolatteKitty_Kat



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Developing Relationship, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:48:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolatteKitty_Kat/pseuds/ChocolatteKitty_Kat
Summary: Mush, Finch, and Elaine’s (OC) first meeting in canon era. Technically compatible with either musical or film, but uses something closer to the film’s version of the rally.
Relationships: Finch/Mush Meyers/Original Female Character(s)





	Rescue Me

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my fic New Music on my Tumblr for more information about Elaine!

Medda’s theatre was packed. It was a better turnout than any of the Manhattan newsies had expected. Despite their reluctance to throw in their support, Brooklyn had come out in full force, and just hearing about that had brought just about every other newsie in New York to the theatre. It was jam-packed, stuffed to the brim with kids of all shapes and sizes, from eight—and even younger—to eighteen. Medda herself stood among the newsies on the stage; these were a handful of representatives from each borough, along with all of the boys from Manhattan, with one notable exception.

Medda had mingled in with the boys on the stage before the rally started, chatting with everyone, but dwelling especially on the Manhattan boys, who she knew best. The afternoon’s show was over, and many of her employees had already left for the day, but a few had stuck around. The stage manager was fretting over the boys, doing his best to keep them out of the wings and backstage, or from touching any of the set pieces other than the flat with the boot painted on the back of it. A handful of the working girls stood in a little knot at the back of the stage, giggling over the uncouth boys shouting over each other and play-fighting on the stage. When Medda finally chased the stage manager and girls away, much to the boys’ disappointment, two of them lingered in the wings. One was a tall, curvy girl with bright blonde hair still tucked into her elaborate updo from the earlier show, with a purple brocade dressing gown draped elegantly over her. The other was small, barely going up to her friend’s shoulder, with long, dark curls falling almost to her waist, dressed in a plain white blouse with puffy sleeves and a navy wool skirt. She chewed on her lip and hung close to the taller girl, watching the boys with wide eyes, jerking away any time someone got too close.

“Nervous?” the blonde teased as the smaller girl jumped and ducked behind her.

“No!” she said, stepping out and straightening her blouse. “I just don’t like crowds.”

“Elaine, you live in New York City,” the blonde rolled her eyes. “One of the biggest cities in the world. You deal with crowds all the time.”

“It’s different when you’re out on the street,” Elaine grumbled.

The boys on the stage—and everyone else in the theatre—fell silent abruptly. The girls looked out and saw a short, dark-haired boy in a red-striped shirt, hands raised, every eye in the room trained on him.

“That’s impressive,” Elaine whispered.

“Shh,” the blonde giggled.

Moments later, the boys started chanting a name—Jack, they thought—but a taller boy, also with dark hair, stepped forward and called for their silence, before beginning to speak. Elaine touched her friend’s elbow and pointed to another boy—a little older than the others, wearing a blue shirt and looking angry—slipping through the wings to come up behind some of the kids on the stage. He was followed by several men, many of them large, or, at least, larger than the children filling the theatre, and over half of them in police uniforms.

“Time to go,” the blonde whispered, grabbing Elaine by the arm and towing her back to the dressing rooms.

“What is it?” Elaine asked, once they were in the safety of the dressing room.

“That many cops? Nothing good.” The blonde shook her head. “The only reason cops would show up in force like that is if they’s planning on breakin’ up the rally, and anyone in this building when that happens is fair game. It don’t matter that we weren’t participatin’; if we’re here and get nabbed, we’re just as guilty as they are.”

“Guilty of what, practicing free speech?” Elaine grumbled. Nevertheless, she helped the other girl get dressed. They were just about to step out of the dressing room when the shouting started from the stage.

.*.*.*.*.*.

Everything happened so fast. One minute, they were shouting at Jack, calling him a scab, and the next everyone was running, and the cops were wading through the crowd, swinging their clubs gleefully at anyone who stood in their way. In seconds, Mush had lost all sense of direction, and any ability to recognize the people around him. Everyone was moving and screaming, and he didn’t wait around to get hit with a bull’s club. He slipped through the crowd, shoving past the bulls and Weisel’s cronies—recognizable from the earlier fight at the World building—throwing punches as needed. He joined a small river of other kids flowing towards the back door. They were all panicking, not that he wasn’t, pushing each other out of the way, a tangle of freneticism in the dark backstage area. 

Mush found himself stumbling towards a side hall, shoved by someone he couldn’t see. He came to a stop, of sorts, when he slammed into someone smaller than him. He heard a shriek, and then they were falling. An elbow made contact with his jaw, and a knee with the inside of his thigh— _ that was close— _ and then they were on the floor, gasping for breath. Mush rolled off of the small body and grabbed her— _ that’s definitely a girl— _ hands and yanked her to her feet. He started to pull away, heading for the back door, but small hands grabbed hold of his shirt sleeve and yanked him back into the hallway.

“Not that way,” came a whisper. “The cops’re outside. Come with me.”

Mush glanced over his shoulder, listening to the shouts from outside. In a split second, he made his decision. He grabbed the girl’s hand and let her pull him into the backstage hallway. They ran past the dressing rooms and slipped into the wing on the other side of the stage. Mush tugged on her arm, pulling her to a halt, and whispered: “Where are you goin’? The bulls are out there.”

She pointed upwards, the light creeping back from the stage catching the white of her blouse. “There’s a fire door on the catwalk. It’ll take us outside.”

_ Best option I have _ , Mush sighed internally, and followed her to the ladder against the wall. They scaled it quickly and sat for a moment on the wobbly catwalk to catch their breath—it had been a thirty foot climb straight up—before clambering to their feet and creeping along the metal walkway. Below them, the stage had turned into a full-fledged brawl between Pulitzer’s men and the city’s newsboys. Mush felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, that he had managed to escape while so many others hadn’t. The girl reached back to grab one of his suspenders and pull him after her. He could feel her fingers trembling through his shirt, even clenched into a fist as they were.

The fire door took them out onto the fire escape, looking out over a side alley. On either end of the alley, they could see the edges of the brawls that had begun as the cops tried to stop the children fleeing the theatre. Directly below them, a few of Pulitzer’s men were in the alley, fighting with a handful of newsies. Mush looked around. “Where to now?” he hissed.

“Didn’t expect them to be in the alley,” the girl murmured.

Mush glanced back through the door as he heard clattering on the catwalk. A pair of burly cops, waving their clubs and shouting, were running towards the door. Mush grabbed a board from inside the door and slammed it shut, wedging the board under the handle. “That won’t hold them long.” He looked around, and finally settled on a plan. “Come on.”

He hurried down to the next “landing” on the fire escape, which lined up perfectly with the one on the building across from them, and climbed up onto the railing.

“You  _ must _ be joking,” the girl gaped up at him.

“It’s a six foot jump at the most,” Mush said. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you.” He leaned back and flung himself across the gap, just barely managing to catch hold of the railing on the opposite fire escape and pull himself up.

Elaine glanced up the fire escape as the bulls began banging on the door above them. She took a deep breath and climbed up onto the railing, gripping the support pole on the corner. Across the alley, Mush mirrored her, then leaned forward, holding his arm out to her. Elaine took another deep breath, leaned back, and leapt towards him.

Mush caught her arm and pulled her into him; she wrapped her arms around his neck as he fell back, nearly tumbling onto the landing. He managed to hop down, one arm wrapped around the small of her back, and set her down on the metal grating, then grabbed her hand and dragged her into the shadows at the back of the stairs, pressed up against the brick wall of the building. The theatre fire door flew open, the plank snapping against the pressure exerted by the pair of cops, and the two burst out. One went up, towards the roof, while the other made for the brawl in the alley below.

Once they were out of sight, Elaine started to pull away, but Mush pulled her back, pinning her against the wall. “Hey!” she gasped.

“Wait ‘til the other one goes down,” he whispered.

She nodded and settled back against the wall, eyes trained on the opposite rooftop. For the first time, Mush had a moment to take her in. She was small—probably no more than five feet tall, and slender—with a mop of wild, long, dark curls, pulled back just enough to be out of her face, except for a few wispy ringlets in front of her ears and over her forehead. Her eyes were wide and dark, framed by long lashes, set in a red-cheeked, pale face with a handful of freckles sprinkled over her nose, which turned up a little at the end. He reached up and brushed one of the curls on her forehead back, fingers running over her brow.

“Did I do that?” he murmured.

She hissed as the calloused skin of his fingertips snagged on the torn skin. “I think I hit it on the floor.”

“Sorry.”

“‘S fine.” She reached up and rested her fingers against his jaw, wiping blood away from a split in his lip with her thumb. “Did  _ I _ do  _ that _ ?”

Mush smiled. “I think you got me with your elbow.”

“Sorry.”

“I’ve had worse.”

Her fingers lingered on his jaw as their eyes met, hearts pounding. They stood in silence for a moment, the sounds of the brawl in the alley below fading out.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly.

“Elaine,” she whispered.

“Mush,” he said. “Figured I should probably get your name at some point, given I’ve already knocked you over once and jumped over a forty-foot drop with you tonight.”

Elaine let out a breathy chuckle.

They were snapped out of the moment when the cop on the other roof clattered back onto the fire escape, making his way down to the alley. As soon as he was a flight below them, Mush took Elaine’s hand and led her up to the roof.

“Now where?” she asked, looking around. “Don’t even think about making me do another jump like that.”

Mush laughed. “There,” he pointed at a door in a shed in the middle of the roof.

“You don’t think it’ll be locked?” Elaine asked, tagging along behind him.

“Probably,” Mush shrugged. He dropped her hand to try the knob, found it locked, and took a step back. A single kick snapped the knob off and the door creaked open. “Easy,” he shrugged again.

“Vandalism,” Elaine muttered, but followed him into the building. They slipped down the stairs and into a hallway between two apartments, which led to a door into a side stairwell, which actually took them down to the ground floor. Outside, they could hear the fight in front of the theatre, and saw bloodied kids running past the handful of spectators brave enough to linger. They slipped through the door and joined the pedestrians hurrying away from the riot. Mush spared a glance over his shoulder, the feeling of guilt returning as he turned his back on the others.

“There’s nothing you could do there,” Elaine whispered, slipping her arm through his.

“I could help,” Mush said through gritted teeth.

“And you’d just wind up getting hurt or arrested too,” Elaine said. “And what good would that do anyone?”

“I might be able to help some of the others get away…”

“You helped me get away,” Elaine said. “Anyways, that’s all anyone else is trying to do anyways. Look how many of the others are running, too. It doesn’t make you a bad person for trying to protect yourself.”

He nodded, but glanced over his shoulder again as another wave of kids bolted past them.

“Mush!” they froze at the shout. Seconds later, Finch slammed into Mush, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “You’re okay! Last I saw, you was headin’ for the back door. Ain’t no-one gettin’ out that way. I was afraid you got grabbed.”

“Came close,” Mush grinned, wrapping his free arm around Finch’s waist. “Miss Elaine here showed me a different way out.”

“Hi, Miss Elaine,” Finch grinned, offering her a hand to shake. “I’m Finch.”

“It’s just Elaine,” she laughed, shaking his hand. “Looks like you had a rough time.”

Finch grinned sheepishly. Blood was running down the side of his face from a wide gash and he was a little unsteady on his feet; his shirt was ripped, and there were bruises on his arms and knuckles. “Not so bad,” he mumbled. He pointed to the cut on Elaine’s head. “Who got you?”

“This one knocked me over,” she grumbled, pointing to Mush.

“Wh—hey! I didn’t do it on purpose! Someone pushed me into you!”

“Likely story,” Finch teased. He weaved slightly, and Mush slipped an arm around his waist to support him. Elaine let go of Mush’s arm and hurried to support Finch from the other side.

“Yeah, ‘not so bad’,” Elaine muttered. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

Elaine opened the door to her apartment slowly and peered in. There was a light under the door to the bedroom, and she waved for the boys to follow her in. “Go get settled in the kitchen,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

She slipped into the bedroom, where the blonde dancer from earlier, along with another girl of almost the exact same build, height, and coloration, were sat on one of the two beds, chattering about the rally.

“Elaine!” one of the girls jumped up and hurried over to give her a hug. “You’re alright! I was so worried after I lost you at the theatre!”

“Thanks, Missy,” Elaine smiled as she pulled away. “Are you alright?”

“I got out the back door just before the cops closed in on it,” Missy sighed and sat down on the bed. “You?”

“Uh… It’s a long story,” Elaine glanced over her shoulder. “One of the boys from the rally helped me though. He and his friend are hurt; I brought them back here to get them cleaned up.”

“You did  _ what _ ?” the other blonde demanded.

“It’s fine, Claire,” Missy put a gentle hand on the other girl’s arm. “Do you want any help?”

“No, it’s fine. My mess to clean up. You two have to be at the theatre earlier than me, anyways. Get some sleep.”

Missy nodded. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” Elaine said, slipping back out into the apartment.

It didn’t take long to get Finch patched up. Once the bleeding from the gash on his head was cleaned up and stopped, it proved to be a surprisingly small wound. Elaine cleaned it out and placed a plaster over the wound, then cleaned the abrasions on his knuckles and wrapped them in sterile gauze. “Go lie down,” she instructed, pointing to a narrow bed against the far wall.

“We should head back”—Finch started.

“It’s too late, and you shouldn’t be out on the streets,” Elaine shook her head. “Get some rest, and leave in the morning.”

Finch looked about to protest, but kept his mouth shut. He flopped down on the bed and was snoring in seconds.

Mush laughed and shook his head. “That didn’t take long.”

Elaine grinned and got up to get a pair of blankets from a stack on a chair near the bed. She handed one to Mush. “Sorry there’s not another bed or anything. You’re welcome to one of the chairs, though.”

Mush grinned. “Lemme clean up your head first.”

Elaine sat down across from him and let him dab at the dried blood on her forehead with a damp cloth. “I think you’ll be alright,” he said, setting the cloth aside. He put a small plaster on it and smiled down at her. “All done.”

“Thanks,” Elaine said. “You want me to look at your lip?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ve had way worse. This’ll probably be cleared up by mornin’. Not much to do for a split lip, anyways.”

“Fair enough,” Elaine shrugged.

“What were you doin’ at the theatre anyways?” Mush asked. “You definitely ain’t a newsie—do you work for Medda?”

Elaine nodded. “I sing, and do some dancing. Mostly singing.”

“How old are ya?” Mush asked. “Ain’t you a little young for that?”

“I’ll have you know that I’m sixteen! Just turned it last month. Medd doesn’t let me work as much as the other girls, though, so I do other jobs when I can to help pull my weight around here. Laundry, mending—and I sell knit and crocheted things I make.”

“Why’re you here and not with your family?” Mush asked.

Elaine sighed and stared down at her hands in her lap. “I couldn’t stay there any more. I love my brothers, and my father’s not so bad—but he hasn’t been able to look at me for years. I remind him too much of my mother. And his second wife is a witch. She’s hated me and my brothers since she married our father, and now that she has her own kids, she’s been downright horrible to the three of us. I just couldn’t take it any longer. I miss my brothers, and even my father, but I like the freedom of being out here on my own.” She looked up and offered him a bright smile. “What about you? Why are you a newsie?”

“My mother died when I was a kid, and my father hasn’t been doin’ well ever since. Drinks too much, can’t hold down a job. So, when I got older, I started sellin’ papes to help him out. Make sure we have a place to sleep and all.”

Elaine nodded. “It’s good you two were able to stay together. Will he be worried that you’re not home tonight.”

“Not sure he’ll notice,” Mush scoffed. “Anyways, I stay at the lodgin’ house a lot anyways. He’ll probably just figure I’m there.”

.*.*.*.*.*.

A few days later, Mush and Finch found themselves wandering the Bowery after selling their papers more quickly than they had expected. It was a hot day, and they were trying to find something to do that would get them inside, out of the sun,  _ without _ costing much money.

“Wish I would’ve taken a few more papes this mornin’,” Finch sighed, kicking at a rock on the pavement. “Might as well take advantage of the deal Jack worked out with Pulitzer to buy our papes back and get a few extra every now and then.”

Mush nodded. “If today had been a better headline, I would’ve taken more.”

“Well, you know what Jack always says”—Finch started.

“‘Headlines don’t sell papes, newsies sell papes,” they chorused together, then laughed.

“Hey, let’s go to Medda’s,” said Finch. “She’ll let us sneak in, and at least we won’t be outdoors no more.”

The boys slipped through the back door of the theatre, sneaking expertly past the preoccupied stage manager and slipping into the wings, behind the flyrail with the stagehands and performers waiting to go on. It was strange to be back in the theatre, considering the last time they had been there it had been stuffed full of newsies fighting off cops.

The theatre wasn’t packed today, but it was comfortably full, most of the seats occupied. The boys had arrived just in time for a performance, and the lights came up as they watched, the small orchestra in front of the stage striking up a slow, mournful tune. The spotlight focused on a small figure in the center of the stage, dressed in a white satin leotard and white tights, an ankle-length skirt made out of soft blue gauze and adorned with white and silver sequins, with white satin ballet shoes, her dark hair twisted and tucked into a tight bun. She began to move slowly in time with the music, graceful and elegant as she swirled around the stage. Two taller blonde dancers, dressed in darker shades of blue and less sparkly, stepped out on stage and began moving with her, as she paused to sing a single line:  **“Who will rescue me?”**

The line was repeated twice more with the crescendo of the music into a stronger, more powerful section, before the girl in white came to a full stop to sing the song’s only verse:

**“I’m lost at sea without a friend,**

**This journey, will it ever end?**

**Who will rescue me?”**

The dancers in blue swirled back into motion as the singer stepped slowly towards the front of the stage, skirt swirling around her ankles, to sing  **“rescue me”** twice, slowly, as the music came to an end. They all froze in place for a moment as the audience applauded, then each bowed and hurried offstage in a flutter of blue and white.

.*.*.*.*.*.

After the show, the boys slipped into the back hallways, dodging performers and stagehands. “Where are we going?” Mush asked.

“Dressing rooms’re this way,” Finch said. He turned and winked over his shoulder. “You  _ did _ want to see her again, right?”

Mush felt his cheeks flush, but kept quiet. They nearly ran into one of the tall blonde girls—not so tall up close; she was maybe an inch taller than Mush, and just a bit shorter than Finch—as she left a room, grinning and shouting over her shoulder.

“Oops!” Missy yelped, jumping back as she nearly collided with Finch. “Sorry ‘bout that! Oh, wait”—

“Hi there,” Claire leaned around Missy to grin at the boys. “Looking for someone in particular?”

“Elaine, those boys from the other night are here!” Missy called back into the dressing room. She hooked her arm through Claire’s and dragged the younger girl down the hall. “Glad to see you two’re lookin’ better today!” She called over her shoulder as she pulled Claire out into the back hallway.

Missy’s shout into the dressing room had been followed immediately by a crash and some banging, before the door flew open to reveal a red-faced Elaine. Her hair was loose, floating around her shoulders and down her back like a dark, fluffy cloud. Her soft blue blouse—the collar and cuffs embroidered with little white flowers—had been hastily tucked into a grey skirt, and she was holding one boot in her hand. “Hi!” she gasped, grinning broadly. “I thought I saw you two in the wings!”

“Yeah—you were great!” Finch said. Mush nodded furiously in agreement.

“Thank you!” Elaine beamed. “Um… come in? I need to put my shoes on.” The boys stepped into the room, warm from the electric lights glowing from around the mirrors that lined the walls. “You can sit wherever; everyone else is already gone.” She settled down at a messy station, the countertop under the mirror covered in cosmetics, jewelry, hair accessories, and so on. She lifted her skirt up just enough to pull on her boots and lace them up, tying them neatly. Once the shoes were on, she plucked a white ribbon from the mess of the table and wound her hair into a loose braid over one shoulder, tying it off at the end with a ribbon. She stood up and plucked a straw hat—adorned with a wide white ribbon tied into a big bow in the back, a soft pink silk rose fastened to the center of the bow—off of a peg on the wall next to the mirror, plopped it on her head, and turned to face the boys. “All done! Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

Finch opened the door and ushered the others out into the hallway. Elaine slipped one arm through Mush’s as they left the theatre. Out on the street, she grabbed Finch’s hand to pull him forward, slipping her arm through his and grinning up at him from under the wide brim of her hat. “I’m glad you two came today. I’ve been wanting to come find you since the other day, but haven’t had a chance. Your head is looking better, Finch.”

“Yeah, I keep forgettin’ what happened to it, because it doesn’t even hurt any more.”

“How’s your lip, Mush?” she asked, peering around to see the other side of his face.

“Almost good as new,” he grinned.

“I’m glad,” she laughed. “I’d hate to think I hurt you badly.”

“How’s your head?”

“Healing nicely!” Elaine chirped.

“Elaine, you said you’d been wantin’ to come see us—why?” Finch asked.

“Oh, just to see how you were doing,” she shrugged. “I was at Newsies’ Square for the strike the other day—it was amazing! I didn’t stay very long, once that boy announced that you had won, I left. I had to do a show. But it was so exciting! I’m very happy for all of you. And I think your win is very important for child workers all over the city. Hopefully it makes life better for lots of kids out there.”

Mush nodded. “That’s the goal. Thanks for comin’ out.”

Elaine grinned and gave his arm a squeeze. “Of course!”

“Where are you headin’?” Finch asked. “We’ll walk you there.”

“Don’t you have selling to do?”

“Nah, we both sold all our papes for the day already.”

“Well, I was going to stop and get lunch on my way home. Would you two like to join me? My treat.”

“Hey, no way we’s lettin’ a  _ girl _ pay for our lunch!” Finch sniffed.

Elaine arched an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. Mush?”

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t afford it,” Elaine said. “I sold some embroidery this week, so I have a little extra. I’ll save as much as I can, of course, but I can afford to take you two to lunch. Finch? Last chance.”

Finch groaned, clearly trying to decide between his pride and his hunger. “Oh… Fine.”

Elaine laughed. “Jacobi’s, then?”

“Literally anywhere else,” Finch protested. “If the boys find out that a girl bought us lunch”—

“Okay, then you pick,” Elaine laughed.

“Come on,” Mush rolled his eyes. “I know a good place.

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Newsies or anything you may recognize from it. I do not own the lyrics to ‘The Journey’. I do, however, own this story, Elaine, and anything you don’t directly recognize from the Newsies medias.


End file.
